Strange Godling
by shadowell
Summary: After a strange new demigod arrives at Camp Half-Blood, a series of events forced a few demigods into the world of wizards, witches, and magic. They were sent to Hogwarts to find something. But nobody knows what they're supposed to find, and it seems like whatever they find whatever they find will not be pleasant, especially since there seems to be a traitor amongst them…
1. Prologue

**Hello eveyone!**

**As I have mentioned before, I am rewriting this story. It took some time, but I've decided to begin! If you are old readers, please inform me if it's better. Thank you, and please review and tell me what you think!**

**Prologue**

I stood atop the hill, gazing down at the dark cabins below.

It was a peaceful place, a safe haven, a place where you can relax. There were still marks of the recent war, but the Camp was healing.

I took a deep breath of the cool night air, letting my eyes wander to the nearby forest, where faraway howls decorated the sounds of summer. My eyes closed, and the memorized words repeated themselves next to my ears.

'_There is a place in America,'_ the voice echoed, _'In Long Island, I think, if I remember correctly. There, find a strawberry farm, and that will be the place your task will start. After you go there, leave the rest to us. We'll prepare everything- you just need to go with the flow, and know what to do, even when you don't know what to do. In the end… make sure it ends.'_

I sighed. Reaching out cautiously, my hand brushed over the protective barrier. The wall of magic rippled, but remained stubborn. I pushed it, a little harder, and felt it give way.

I stumbled into the Camp, slightly surprised at the sheer easiness of it all.

Then, as if somebody had slammed a baseball bat into the back of my head, stars exploded into my vision, and I embraced the darkness.


	2. First

**I**

**Nico**

It happened at midnight. None of us noticed her. No one found her, until the following morning, when one of the Demeter children had woken up early to tend to the flowers before there were any pranksters. It was that Demeter child that spotted her and started screaming about a dead girl next to Thalia's pine. In less than thirty seconds, there were people streaming from the cabins, trying to see what the heck was happening that was so important they had to be awakened at six in the morning.

I was part of the crowd that had trudged out of my cabin into the light, yawning, watching some Apollo kids carry the unconscious, injured girl into the infirmary. As she passed me, surrounded by healers, I caught the sight of a pale, delicate face, framed by dark hair. She looked like a little doll.

Sighing, I reentered the Hades cabin, fell face first into my bed, and promptly went back to sleep.

It's just another demigod in the crowd.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

Honestly, I hate mornings. It's just so bright, and early, and sunny, and happy, and everything else that did not fit me at all. Sadly, everyday, there's a morning.

"Nico!" somebody pounded on my door. "Nico? It's almost noon. Get out of the cabin!"

Groaning, I trudged to the door for the second time that day and threw it open to be met by an annoyed-looking Annabeth.

"So you finally decided to stop pretending to be dead?" she asked, glaring pointedly at me.

"What do you want?"

"Remember the new girl? I was supposed to show her around today, but more urgent things came up, so it's your job now."

"Why me?" I yawned again.

"You needed to wake up anyway. I thought it'd be a good wake-up call," was Annabeth's reply.

"Fine," I began to close the door, "Wake me up when it's time."

"She's already awake. You have five minutes."

Cursing, I slammed the door in her face.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

Adding to the list of things I hate, please remember to include infirmaries and hospitals. They reeked of a scent of death that made it difficult for me to breathe, not to mention the bitter tang of medicine and sickness in the air. The infirmary in Camp Half-Blood may be slightly better, but it was still a place of healing and of death.

The new girl was waiting for me in the infirmary.

Five minutes after Annabeth's annoying wake-up call, I stood before the simple building, took a deep breath, and entered.

The moment I stepped into the infirmary, I located her.

The newcomer was around my age- twelve, that had been confirmed. However, with her small, petite structure and doll-like face, she looked younger. She was a pretty girl with healthy white skin contrasting with her black, wavy hair and large black eyes. Her lips were an unnatural shade of dark red, and her features were soft and gentle.

She looks almost familiar. But where could I have possibly seen her before?

She smiled hesitantly and stood up as I neared her. She looked a bit more cleaned up from the last time I've met her, her injuries were patched up, her hair combed and smoothed back into a braid.

"Hello, nice to meet you," she said, eyes downcast, holding out her left hand as her right was bandaged tightly. Her voice was sweet and soft, matching her delicate appearance. "You must be Nico di Angelo. Annabeth told me about you."

I shook her hand awkwardly.

"My name is Nicole." Her smile widened ever so slightly, and finally, her dark eyes rose to meet mine, connecting through a curtain of long, dark lashes. Immediately, I was frozen under her gaze. "Just Nicole, nothing else."

I nodded numbly, then turned away, the image of her black eyes seared into my mind.

Her eyes were the eyes of a person who was already dead.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

The tour went somewhat smoothly, if you don't count the mountain of questions that spouted from Nicole. If you didn't know better you would've thought she was trying to uproot all your secrets.

When the flow of questions finally ended, I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'm guessing this is where you live," Nicole pointed at Cabin 13. I nodded. "It fits you," she commented, and we moved on.

All in all, Nicole was proven to be a relatively serious person, but was nice enough. She wasn't proud or judgmental, only genuinely curious. The only cabin she decided to explore was the Hermes cabin, since it would be her home from now on until she gets claimed. Her only comment on the Hermes cabin was a light frown.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

Dinner. A time during night where you get to eat. My favorite time of the twenty-four hours, if you don't count sleeping.

Just as I was about to sink my teeth into the hamburger in my hands, somebody slid into the bench next to me. It was Nicole, smiling lightly.

"You're supposed to be at the Hermes table," I told her.

"I know."

"So why are you here?"

"I just wanted to say hi. I'll leave now, if it bothers you." She didn't sound offended, simply standing up and leaving for the crowded and boisterous Hermes table.

I quickly finished my dinner before leaving for my cabin for a good night's sleep, not bothering to stay for the sing-along.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

It was midnight. The moon hung high over the wispy clouds, the dark sky dotted with sparkling stars. A gentle song drifted through the air, a wordless lullaby.

It was that song that woke me up.

My eyes cracked open, almost drifting back into oblivion as the lullaby washed over me, but the realization of the familiar voice kept me awake. Blinking drowsily I cracked open the cabin door, grumbling about the fact that there was no windows in Cabin 13. Did whoever that built this think that we're vampires or something?

Through the small slit between the door and the frame, I caught a glimpse of a ghost. Not literally, but it's what she looked like: it was a girl, donning a long white dress that flowed out behind her in the soft breeze. Her dark hair drifted with her, lingering gracefully.

For a moment I was tempted to follow her, but she had disappeared into the woods.

Plopping back onto my bed, I suddenly realized something.

The girl was Nicole.

* * *

**Please Review!**


	3. Song

**Thanks to everyone who replied! Several things, however: **

**First of all, I am all about canon pairings. I would never, EVER pair up an original character with my own. So yes, it's supposedly Solangelo. But currently, it's too early for Solangelo, since it's after the war against Kronos, which was why there were no mentions of the Roman Camp. Also, I absolutely suck at romance. So sorry to all the Solangelo fans.**

**Second of all, I realized (thanks to my reviewers) that this story was still marked as complete. The reason is because that this story was originally complete, and had 28 chapters, which was why there are reviews from Chapter 28. I'm pretty sure I mentioned in the Prologue that this story is being rewritten, and when I deleted all the chapters to restart, I forgot to change it back to incomplete.**

**Finally, about the name similarity between Nico and Nicole... that was not on purpose. It's hard to explain, though. But no, they will not be paired up. Absolutely not. For numerous reasons at that.**

**Other questions, especially questions about the plot, will be answered later in the plot. Just continue reading and you'll see.**

**Please enjoy!**

**II**

**Nico**

Honestly, I hate mornings. It's just so bright, and early, and sunny, and happy, and-

"Nico!" somebody knocked on my door, constant but not impatient. "Nico? It's almost noon. Can you please get out of the cabin?"

Groaning, I trudged to the door and threw it open to be met by a beaming Nicole, whose smile faded immediately after seeing my awry clothes and bed-head.

"Finally decided to stop pretending to be dead?" she chirped, a forced smile creeping onto her face.

"What do you want?"

Nicole's smile remained frozen, but her voice had an impatient edge to it. "Can't you show a little bit more respect? I'm resisting the urge to pour a bucket of water over your head just to get rid of that horrible bed head, you know."

I yawned, turned, and began to close the cabin door. "If you're here just to criticize me, you can leave now."

Before the door could close, Nicole wedged her foot into its path and pushed it open once more.

"I'm just here to remind you that you're in charge of bringing me to the training place." That unchanging smile of hers was getting creepy.

"I showed you where it is yesterday," I protested.

She frowned. "No you didn't."

"Yes I did."

"You didn't."

"I did."

"I am positive that you didn't."

"I am positive that I- Arg!" I threw my hands up in frustration. "Fine, I'll take you! Just wake me up when it's time." I began to close the door once more. This time, Nicole didn't stop me.

"It starts on 10:30," she said through the closing door. "You have ten minutes."

Cursing, I slammed the door in her face.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

"This is entirely your fault!" stormed Nicole as we headed towards the training area, looking more like she was leading me instead of me leading her. "If you weren't so slow, we wouldn't be late!"

"Calm down," I sighed, "Five minutes won't kill you."

"And what if because of that five minutes I lag behind and become worse than everyone?!" she screeched.

"You're being paranoid."

At that moment, the training area came into view, where Percy and Annabeth were instructing several other kids on the correct way to hold a sword.

"See?!" Nicole glared accusingly at me. "They've already started!"

"Okay, good luck." I twisted my wrist out of her grasp and walked away, leaving Nicole glaring a hole through my back.

I had completely forgotten about last night.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

After spending the rest of the morning in my cabin, the sun, high in its noon position, was blinding.

During lunch, I saw Nicole laughing and chatting with the Hermes kids, fitting in just fine. She was a little flushed after training, a light dusting of pink so pale it was barely visible on her white skin. She showed no signs of exhaustion, and ate no more than me, maybe even less. She glanced towards my direction once, then averted her gaze quickly.

Soon after that, I left.

My plan was to spend the rest of the afternoon in my cabin, and for an hour or two, my plan was going quite smoothly. Then, there was rapid knocking on my door.

Sighing, I trudged to open it, but the moment the door opened a crack, the person on the other side flung it open and out of nowhere, a sword came slicing towards my head.

Instinctively, I dodged and leapt back, my heart skipping a beat at the not-so-pleasant surprise.

Somehow not as surprising, the person who had tried to assassinate me was none other than Nicole.

Her smile was present, sweet and gentle, lips tilted like a crescent moon, but those bottomless black eyes sucked all the warmth away. Her hair had been braided neatly down her back, and it swung with her movements as she leveled her sword at me.

"If you wouldn't mind," she spoke with that cheerful voice, "Would you please give me some tips on sword-fighting?"

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

To say that I was surprised was an understatement. I was shocked. Most campers, especially _new_ campers, wouldn't have bothered with me. But this girl…

"As you know, I have no powers. So do you mind if you don't do anything related to magic? I'll appreciate it." Nicole smiled up at me as we walked towards the training area.

We stood in the center of the area with a few meters between us, staring at each other like we're looking at something fascinating in a museum.

That's how we remained for a tense half minute.

My sword was slack by my side, my pose relaxed but ready. Nicole, on the other hand, was taking deep breaths to steady herself. Her hands gripped her crude sword tightly before her. The only thing that didn't seem nervous was her out-of-place smile, which was as bright and filled-with-secrets as ever.

Just when I was contemplating on whether or not I should attack first, she moved.

With two quick bounds she was in front of me. I brought my sword up to meet hers, and the clang echoed through the empty training area. Even before the sound had stopped ringing, Nicole had swept out her feet to throw me off balance, and then when I dodged, she swiped at me with her sword. There was nothing special in her movements. They were basic and easy to learn. However, she had sequenced them in such a random pattern and set such a quick tempo that reacting became difficult.

The downside for her strategy, however, was that Nicole was tiring extremely quickly.

The afternoon sun was beating down on us, our shadows had yet to grow too long.

Despite her amiable smile, Nicole was panting heavily, though she seemed unaffected by heat. Unlike her, sweat trickled uncomfortably down my back.

Eager to finish this fight, I attacked, feinting left but attacking right. Nicole's expression shifted into a look of pleasant surprise when she saw past the fake movement at the last second and lunged back to avoid my sword.

_Why didn't we use fake swords?_ I suddenly wondered. This isn't a duel to the death.

But even as I thought that, I jabbed my sword towards her stomach- an attack that could've been fatal if she hadn't dodged. With a graceful back flip, she avoided it, then blocked my following strike. Her arms trembled from the strain, but she held the position. I pushed harder, and she fell back, only to flip on the last second and landed gracefully on her feet with a small sound effect. _'Hui! Tou…'_

One of the strangest sound effects I've ever heard.

A few drops of blood splattered onto the grass. Nicole blinked and looked down to see a long but shallow cut across her left arm. Her brows furrowed together as if she was confused, before snapping her attention back to me. Her smile disappeared.

Nicole went on offensive as she sprang towards me, sword already slicing through the air. I leapt back, then brought my sword up against hers as she attacked once more.

She seemed to be pusher herself to be faster and stronger, and the ringing of our swords clashing together has become a constant sound. Her swordplay had become a dance, spinning, whirling, leaping… A deadly dance of blades.

A few people had stopped to watch, several cheering a little mockingly from time to time. After all, I _am_ fighting a person with less experience than me, and I haven't won yet.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed against her sword, knocked it to the side before attacking.

I brought my sword down from above, slicing through the air in a slanted line. Nicole brought her sword up, but the force of my assault knocked it from her hand, and my blade slashed across her chest.

Nicole's eyes widened dramatically, her expression twisting into one of surprise. Blood blossomed from the injury, and at that moment, I knew that I've done it.

I've crossed the line.

Nicole gasped, but her expression betrayed no pain. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, her arms trembling in an effort to prop herself up again.

Somebody in the small crowd watching us screamed, and several other kids- children of Apollo, most likely- began hurrying towards Nicole.

Slowly, the dark-haired girl raised her head to look at me.

I expected her to curse at me, to vow to haunt me (not like that's possible as I'm the son of Hades), but she didn't.

Instead, she smiled. It was not that sweet, joy-filled, content smile she usually put on. It was a small tilt of her dark red lips, warm and gentle and slightly sad. Then, she closed those dead, emotionless black eyes, and slid to the ground in her pool of blood.

Nicole had died.


	4. Echoes

**III**

**Nico**

The crowd that had been watching Nicole and I collapsed into chaos. The Apollo campers were shouting at others to get them something from the infirmary. Percy and Annabeth passed by at that moment, noticed the panic, and hurried up to me.

"What happened, Nico?" Annabeth demanded to know. "Did-,"

Then she spotted Nicole, and she froze. Percy noticed the blood on my Stygian Iron sword and frowned.

"Nico, what-?"

"Percy!" somebody called, "What should we…"

The crowd began to grow, more and more people being attracted by the panicked voices and noises. The word began to spread like wildfire.

"Nicole!" Percy exclaimed, feeling for her pulse but finding none. "How did this happen?"

"Gods of Olympus!" somebody yelped.

"Wait, why?"

"A fight…"

"The son of Hades…"

"Is she really…?"

The voices were becoming overwhelming. People stared, pointed, whispered, and it was suffocating me. My senses seem to become muted, the atmosphere becoming hazy and unfocused.

Nicole… she had asked me to spar… but then…

I wanted to scream at myself, to tell myself how stupid I am to not remind her to use fake swords. I may have been through war, but I'm not half as good as Percy, and it would be easier for me to get someone hurt.

Why did she even ask me in the first place? Why not Percy or Annabeth, the heroes of the camp? Why didn't she-

A scream pierced through the air as an Apollo camper stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and landing on her bum. Even after she fell she continued to scramble backwards, as if a horror movie was unfurling in front of her very eyes.

And it wasn't only her. Other campers were backing off as well, their expressions ranging from confused to shocked to downright terrified.

But terrified of what?

Slowly, I looked around, only to see a blur of darkness, and out of instinct, my sword shot up.

Just in time, too. The sound of two swords meeting rang through the area and I stared wide-eyed into the blank, black orbs of Nicole. The darkness in her dead eyes writhed hungrily as she smiled: a cruel, wretched thing.

She pressed down at me, but with a mighty heave, I unlocked our swords. Both of us leapt back. The crowd shuffled back to give us more space, and continued to move back as Nicole crouched into a fighting position and tensed. I tensed as well, eyes sharp for any twitch or movement. It was now not just the desire to win that pushed me on, filling my veins with adrenaline and making my senses heighten; it was fear.

The fear continued to grow as Nicole's aura grew dark. Despite being in the middle of summer, frost began to spread beneath her feet as the air temperature dropped rapidly. My breath began to mist up in the air.

It was afternoon, so the shadows were already beginning to pull long, but now, it stretched around Nicole till the ground was streaked with dark stripes.

None of us moved, though I did do a quick scan underground for skeletons. There was a pitiful amount, since most of the demigods are not buried here but cremated instead. However, they will have to do for now.

Nicole charged suddenly, but I was ready. Quickly raising a hand, the skeletons clawed from cracks in the ground to face Nicole.

She did not blink. She did not hesitate, just sliced through them as if they were straw dummies.

Well, so much for that.

I parried Nicole's attack, then went on offensive. Around her, the air was freezing, and I felt like my fingers were going to fall off. We continued to spar, each movement desperate and slightly rushed, as if we wanted it to stop, but wishes to continue as well.

Nicole wore a heavy black bracelet on her right wrist, and it rattled with each time our swords met. Her smile was gone, and her teeth were gritted. Sweat trickled down her face, much to my satisfaction, despite that I was just as sweaty as her. She was obviously losing control of that cold, violent atmosphere.

I attacked, knocked her sword to one side, and then disarmed her. But if I thought getting rid of her weapon would force her to surrender, I was wrong. Nicole bared her teeth and snarled, almost like a wild beast, before springing towards me. I was momentarily shocked, and she slammed into me, knocking my breath out of my lungs and my sword out of my hands.

I could almost read the gleeful expression on her face: _Now we're equal_.

I resisted the urge to curse very loudly in every single language I know as I dodged Nicole's attacks. She seemed to be able to fight better bare-handed. Her movements were smoother, more polished, and they were even more like an exotic dance.

Around her, shadows writhed. The grass beneath her feet crumbled to dust.

The small part of my brain that was still filtering thoughts couldn't help but wonder who her godly parent was. _Hecate? Thanatos? _Both seemed unlikely. Children of Hecate tend to rely more on spells and potions. Even though darkness was part of Hecate's realm, that was only because she preferred night over day. Thanatos was a little more possible, as her aura of death was extremely strong, but I've never thought Thanatos as a god that will bear children. I always believed that he was too busy for things like this.

I dodged Nicole's foot as she tried to trip me, and then we retreated again, panting and sore all over. Nicole swayed a little on her feet, despite her face of determination. I doubt I will ever be able to get used to how blank her black eyes were, no matter what expression she wears. It was as if she was wearing masks, except they were masks that cover her eyes, concealing the expression of her soul. No matter how colorful her expressions outside were, they always seem faked. For some reasons, I pity Nicole for that.

As if she read my thoughts, Nicole's expression softened. Her posture crumbled, her shoulders slumped in what seems like defeat. She looked forlorn and disappointed, as if her dreams had been crushed. She shook her head softly at me.

"You still don't get it, do you?" she said softly, sadly. "After all this-," she gestured around us, to the dead grass and dark shadows and thawing frost, "you still don't get it?"

I blinked, completely confused by her words. Was I supposed to understand something from this fight other than what Nicole was capable of doing? What was so noticeable…?

Then, it clicked. It was a possibility that I did not want to think about, and one that I had deemed too bizarre to even consider. What if…?

Nicole sighed, and began to leave. She walked past me, leaving behind a faint, lingering scent of chocolate. But then deeper beneath the fragrance… was the smell of death and blood. Slightly metallic, void and empty and… dead.

Nicole made her way towards the forest, the crowd making a way for her. Behind her, the bones that I have summoned and she had cut down stirred, knitted together, and escorted her into the forest.

And that was when I knew: I had another sister.


	5. Fears and Screams

**IV**

**Nico**

For several days afterwards, no one saw Nicole. She just never showed up again after disappearing into the forest.

No one seemed to care, however, especially after they realized the same thing I had. Children of Hades had never been truly accepted. Several kids from Cabin Eleven handed me Nicole's little belongings to me in a bag, and I left it in one corner of my cabin, as far from my bed as I could get it. There was literally nothing- she seemed to have arrived here empty-handed. A small black notebook, a small black pen, a blunt normal kitchen knife, two sets of clothes, and that was it.

Looking at what she had, I couldn't help but wonder where she was right now. Where was her family? Does she even have one? How did she get here with no help at all?

For a girl that was so open and willing to speak up, I just realized there really was nothing I knew about her.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

After almost a week, she returned. We were enjoying dinner, and while she was the last thoughts in the back of our minds, she strolled right back in.

Even though she had just spent five days in a forest, she was surprisingly immaculate. Her injuries and scratches were patched up; her hair was neatly combed and cascaded down her back in steady waves. She wore the same orange camp T-shirt and black shorts as the day she left, and as usual, she was barefooted.

The Dining Pavilion was hushed as she slid down beside me. For a moment, all she did was stare at me with my hamburger halfway to my mouth. A frown crept up her face. Then, she said, "You should eat something healthier," before standing and stalking off towards the empty cabins.

We stared after her until she disappeared into Cabin Thirteen. We continued to stay silent and motionless half a minute after that. Finally, somebody coughed and chuckled weakly, and thus the tense silence was broken.

There seemed to be unspoken agreements amongst all of us not to mention or even think about her again for the rest of the night, and I was glad for it. And for the first time after Bianca's death, I stayed for the sing-along around the campfire, and lingered until the very end.

When I finally returned to my dark, cold cabin, Nicole was curled up on another bed, unmoving, barely breathing. If I didn't know better, I would've thought she was dead.

Which she's supposed to be.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

The next day, Nicole was back to her normal happy self. It was as if nothing had ever happened, as if we had never sparred, as if she had never died.

In the beginning, I was extremely wary. We spoke little, and barely acknowledged each other's presence. I hung out around Camp, training occasionally, chilling out as autumn began to creep closer. Nicole trained often, much more than me, and continued to learn.

And she learns fast.

A bit too fast.

Pretty soon, she had become better at fighting than basically anybody around her age. She was slightly over a year younger than me, and we never had another sparring session again.

We continued the somewhat silent treatment until Nicole approached me one day and demanded to learn how to shadow-travel. At first, I told her to bug off, learn it herself the way I taught myself, but she continued to pester me to such an extent that I finally gave in.

After that, we became slightly closer. It wasn't so awkward to be in the same cabin anymore, and I grew less afraid that she might stab me in the back when I was asleep. She grew more open as well. Curt words became sentences, and sentences built conversations.

She told me about her past, while I told her everything I knew about this mythical world and everything I've experienced here.

I learned that she was an orphan- or so she thought- and she had lived on the streets for most of her life. She did her best to fight, did her best to survive against the monsters that swarmed to her like moths to a flame. She traveled, lied, listened. Listened and listened, until one day, she heard two boys in a store. No one else had seemed to notice that they were pick-pocketing a lot of goods from the store: she was the only one. Their conversation was strange, stranger than any of the others she's heard before. They talked about monsters, the same monsters she knew and had encountered, and about this 'Camp'. Apparently this camp had a store because they were complaining about how the camp store didn't sell the things they wanted. However, the one thing that intrigued Nicole the most was the knives strapped to their belt. Again, no one else seemed to notice it, and that was when she decided to follow them.

She kept a healthy distance as she tracked them. She watched as they entered a strawberry farm, and puzzled, she decided to camp out about a mile from Camp.

Then in the middle of the night, she was attacked by hungry monsters from the forest, and managed to escape into the boundaries of the camp, originally wanting to call for help but had collapsed when she crossed the boundaries.

But she was safe from the monsters, and that was what truly mattered.

I told her about Kronos and the entire craze she just managed to miss. If she had come two or three weeks earlier, she would have managed to catch a glimpse of the end of the war.

Finally, after warming up with her, I gathered up the courage to ask about what happened during our little duel. But I didn't get the answer I wanted. Not about how she find out who her godly parent was, nor how she survived the fatal injury that had actually killed her. All I received was a shrug, but when she thought I wasn't looking, I could almost swear she was smirking behind my back.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

Nicole learns quickly. A bit too quickly. And also a little bit too eagerly.

Teaching her shadow-traveling was easier than I expected. Nicole was observant, and managed to understand the trick just by seeing it once. However, it still took her several attempts just to get her arm into the shadows. She tried a few more times, sticking her arms into the darkness, running into trees, tripping once, before she was able to shadow-travel one meter. That alone had drained her so much I basically had to drag her back to the cabin for her to rest.

"Let's continue…" she wheezed, "…tomorrow…"

I agreed, then left for dinner. Nicole, wanting to rest, didn't bother to come.

When I came back later that afternoon, Nicole was asleep. She remained motionless in her slumber, but shadows writhed around her, brushing her white skin with their cold fingers, enveloping her in a dark hug… As if she was frolicking with the shadows as well, Nicole smiled in her sleep.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

"I did it!" came Nicole's triumphant cheer as she hurried back towards where I stood waiting for her by the forest. Her goal was to travel from the edge of the forest to the beach, and after a week, she finally did it.

Autumn has officially come, and dead leaves crunched under her feet as she ran, then with a flying leap, trapped me in a suffocating hug.

"Con…gratulations…" I forced out, patting her on the back as she laughed.

"I did it, Nico, I did it!"

"Yes… I know… Let… go…"

"I did it!"

"Can't… breathe…"

Even after she finally let go, she kept a death grip on my shoulders and began shaking me. "I did it!"

"Yes, I know, gods-dammit, stop!"

"Nico, you remember right? You remember?" I had never seen Nicole look so excited, like a child receiving chocolate. Well actually…

"Remember what?"

"You promised me the gigantic chocolate bar! I didn't have the money to buy it, but you do! I succeeded, so buy me it! I want chocolate!"

Seriously doubting my judgment, we headed towards the Camp shop. Chocolate was definitely _not_ healthy for the victorious, hyperactive girl, and I doubt it'd benefit the rest of us much as well.

Luckily, it didn't seem like chocolate was going to make her anymore hyper. In fact, she began to calm as she munched on the chocolate bar.

"Nico?"

"What?"

"I've never been to the Underworld before."

"Huh?" I did not expect that, especially since I _saw_ her die once. If you don't end up in the Underworld after you die, where do you go?

"The closest I got to was the lobby where Charon is. Can you show me it? The actual Underworld? And Elysium and the Fields of Punishment? Nico, can we go?"

I pondered for some time. "Maybe if you can shadow-travel there…"

She answered immediately. "I'll do it."

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

And she did.

It took her several tries, but in the end, she did it. And the sight that greeted her was not pretty.

She had arrived smack in the middle of the Fields of Punishment, where all the blood and gore stained the sandy clearing. Screams reverberated around her from every side, and everything was as dark as night.

Very calmly, Nicole walked out, ignoring pleading cries, glancing past begging eyes, and not minding the blood-soaked sand that clung to her bare feet.

When I found her, she was staring out into the Fields of Asphodel, watching the spirits wander silently and aimlessly, searching for memories that they will never find.

And she looked at me with those same blank, empty eyes, stared at me for a long time as if searching for a sliver of familiarity in my features. She seemed to have found none.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

Our first stop was to visit the King of the Underworld, Lord Hades.

As usual, he was sitting on his throne, discussing something with one of the Furies. The two other Furies were perched on the armrests of Persephone's temporarily-empty throne like hideous vultures. The moment we entered, the discussion halted, and all attention fell onto us.

We bowed.

"Father," Nicole spoke first, "My name is Nicole, your daughter. Do you remember me?"

The Furies hissed slightly as Hades stiffened. His expression remained cold, but when he spoke, there was something strange about his voice and the way he spoke that didn't seem quite right.

"Of course," he answered her, "Welcome home."

And with four short words, he waved us away, as if he couldn't stand another second with us.

As we left, Nicole was humming a little tune happily, almost victoriously. There was a spring in her step that had never been there before.

I showed her the guest room, where she will be staying for now. As I left her in the room, closing the door behind me, I could almost swear she smiled out the window at the gloomy scene of the Underworld and said, "It's finally beginning."

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

Next morning, I woke at the sound of music.

I sat up blearily, looking around, but the melodies of the violin was too faint to be in my room. I changed quickly, then strolled out, curious about the source of the music.

I passed Nicole's room, but the door was wide open and the room was empty.

The music grew louder as I strolled away from the palace and headed towards the direction of the Fields of Punishment.

Then, I found Nicole, and at the same time, discovered the source of the music.

Nicole stood near the border between the Fields of Asphodel and Fields of Punishment with a violin perched on her skinny shoulders. She played a short, simple song that seemed to light up the gloomy surroundings for just a moment. Almost all eyes were on her, those blank, lifeless, tortured orbs watching the little performance.

I watched as she began another song, this time 'Yankee Doodle'. When she finished, she tensed suddenly, as if finally sensing me behind her.

She turned, and looked at me with those blank, empty eyes, stared at me for a long, long time as if searching for a sliver of familiarity in my features. Then, seeming to have found something, she smiled. And it was falsest smile I have ever seen.

**παράξενο** **ημίθεος**

For some strange reason, Nicole decided to invite Percy and Annabeth over to Cabin 13 during the afternoon we came back from the Underworld to play- of all things- Monopoly.

It was completely out of the blue, and when I asked her, even she had shrugged, clueless.

"I wanted to," she answered later with a slight pout, "Isn't that a good enough reason?"

For someone who was forced to live it out on the streets, she sure was spoiled.

But either way, the four of us began, with Annabeth as the Banker and soon-to-be the best player, Nicole not far behind.

"I wonder," she said as she picked up a Chance Card and quickly scanned the back, "Is there a Monopoly board with all the big places in the world instead of just America?"

"There is one for the UK, but I doubt there's one for the whole world." Annabeth answered.

"It'd be a gigantic board," Percy added. "We'd need more than four people to play that, or else the game will never end."

"I know," Nicole said with a sigh and moved her piece, "but I just _wonder_. Wouldn't it be so much fun? Which places would you want to buy if such thing exists?"

"I'll buy Manhattan, maybe, if it's on the board. Or just New York. I'm pretty sure they'll put New York on the board," Percy gave his opinion.

"I will never touch Berlin," Nicole said, tossing the dice to Percy. "I spent most of my time in Germany, and I swear that I will never go back there."

"Why not?" Percy moved his piece. It seemed as if the current atmosphere was so still and bored that nothing seems surprising anymore.

"Too many memories," she replied, "And I got sick of the same view."

"So you're from Germany?" Annabeth tossed in her own question as she took some money from Percy. He handed the dice to me.

"No. I moved there with my mother when I was young."

"Oh. Why?"

"No idea. Go ask my dead mother if you're so interested."

"Why don't you ask?" Percy asked. "You're the daughter of Hades, you should be able to do it."

"The thing is," Nicole emphasized, "I'm not interested. The past is the past. I live in the present."

"Much deepness," I commented and handed the dice to Annabeth. She rolled, and moved her piece, then swore when she realized that she had landed into one of Nicole's most expensive territories. Nicole smugly took the money, along with the dice for her turn.

"Either way," she said as she rolled the dice, "I'm never going back to Germany, and the only way you'll get me to go there is by murdering me and dragging my body there."

"Great," Percy replied drily.

Nicole chuckled lightly, and reached out for her Monopoly piece. But before she could begin moving, she gasped, stiffening. Her eyes rolled back, and she fell to the floor limply.

For a few seconds, all we could do was stare.

Annabeth was the first to snap out of the shocked daze. "Nicole?" she called cautiously, worry laced into her voice. She shook the unconscious girl. "Are you okay?"

Immediately, Percy and I went and helped shift the young girl till she was lying on her back.

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"She just… fell asleep," Percy remembered.

"I think she got knocked unconscious," Annabeth said, ignoring Percy. "Except it's most likely through magic. Maybe we can go ask somebody from Hecate's cabin. They might know."

"I'll go," volunteered Percy.

However, before he could even stand up, Nicole's eyes snapped open.

Those blank black orbs stared at the ceiling like the eyes of the dead: unmoving, unblinking, lifeless.

Percy stopped.

"No…" Nicole whispered, her voice barely audible. But even so, we could hear the strain in her voice, the struggle and pain. "Stop…" Then suddenly, she screamed and we all jumped. "GET OUT! Get out of my head! OUT!"

The earsplitting sounds were accompanied with the faint sound of shuffling and slithering, and around us, the shadows writhed and grew, snuffing out the dim torches and surrounding us with cold darkness.

"STOP IT!"

And then the shadows closed in, and Percy, Annabeth and I were trapped in a suffocating prison. Tendrils of darkness slithered around our necks, tightening scarily. More ropes of the cold smoothness wrapped around our arms, our legs, immobilizing us. Despite my best attempts and hard commands, they just wouldn't budge.

"GET IT OUT!"

The shadowy grips tightened painfully, cutting off our airstream.

"Gods… dammit…" I choked out, futilely trying to struggle out of the chains.

But the nooses were tight, and the wind began to pick up, faster and faster until it seemed like we were in a tornado. I knew this feeling, and I did not like the fact that it was happening.

We were shadow-traveling to somewhere, our location controlled by the maddening girl whose pained screams were carried away by the wind. Random shadow-traveling were never good, and it seemed like we were going somewhere far, far away.

I prayed that it wasn't China.

And then, the world went black.


	6. Light

**V**

**Nico**

It wasn't China, thank goodness.

But we weren't in America either, tragically enough.

My mind was awake, but my body slept on. I was laying on something soft, most likely a bed. Everything was silent except for the faint sounds of slow breathing coming from next to me. I groaned, forcing my eyes open. The first thing I saw was a blinding white, and it took several moments for my aching eyes to adjust.

Where am I?

It seemed to be an Infirmary of some sort, with the white walls, white blankets, and hard, narrow beds. I sat up slowly, stretching out my stiff muscles and joints while looking around. Nicole was right of me, Percy and Annabeth on the left. There were two doors, one on the left of Percy, another one opposite of me.

Nothing seemed to move. White light shone from the small window by Nicole's bed. Birds began to chirp as they welcomed the dawn of another day.

Dawn?

If I remembered correctly, when Nicole freaked out, it was dusk.

At that moment, I panicked. How long were we out? If we were lucky, it was just one night. But even so, where were we? It felt like anywhere but America. Who took us in? Why were we here?

My train of questions was cut off when Nicole stirred next to me, groaning as she forced her eyes open. "Wha…?" she croaked, pushing herself into sitting position, her skinny arms straining with stiffness.

"God…" Percy awoke as well. "Somebody close the curtains…"

Annabeth remained silent, but she sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Then, she looked around and spoke up. "Seems like we're all awake now. Where are we, though?"

"I don't know," I answered. "Some type of hospital or infirmary is my guess."

"That's the obvious part." Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Nicole, you were the one who got us here; do you know?"

Nicole blinked, looking slightly bewildered. "I… what? I got us here? But then… It's not… that's not right…"

"The light's blinding me… somebody go get the curtains…"

We ignored Percy. "Annabeth is right, you know. You did get us here," I told Nicole. "Don't you remember?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember anything. Just… one moment we were playing Monopoly, then the next… everything was dark, and when I woke, we were here. I don't remember anything at all."

"Well, that's problematic," said Annabeth with a sigh. "Maybe we should go investiga-"

At that moment, the door opposite of me swung open, revealing an old nurse with gray hair and blue eyes. She had a gentle face that somehow seemed stern at the same time.

"Finally awake, I see," she said with a strong British accent, striding into the Infirmary and closing the door behind her. The four of us stared at her as she came forward and slid the curtains close, much to the joy of Percy, then pushed Nicole gently back into lying position and tucking her in.

Annabeth cleared her throat slightly. "Excuse me, ma'am, but can you please tell us where we are?"

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "How can you travel to somewhere you don't even know? Either way, you are in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. Our gamekeeper found the four of you unconscious at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and brought you here."

She began to push me down as well as I asked, "Ma'am, how long were we out?"

"Call me Madam Pomfrey, dears," she said, tucking me in just like Nicole. "You were out for five days, so it'd be best if you all don't start hopping and running about just yet."

"Five days?!" Annabeth exclaimed. Nicole gave a little gasp while the rest of us stared at Madam Pomfrey incredulously. "Five days!"

"Why didn't you wake us?" shock was laced into Nicole's voice.

"I couldn't," the nurse answered simply as she tucked in Annabeth. "And you looked like you needed the rest. Especially you, dear," she gestured slightly at Nicole. "You were so pale it couldn't be healthy at all. You seemed almost transparent at first!"

Biting her lip, Nicole settled deeper into her pillows and turned away towards the window with a slightly guilty look on her face.

"Now," Madam Pomfrey said with a little huff, "you four stay here until the Headmaster comes. He'll want to speak with you." And then she retreated to her office, to call the Headmaster, no doubt.

"What are we going to do?" Annabeth asked quietly after the office door swung shut with a click.

"I guess I could shadow-travel us back," I said, shrugging under the covers even though the others can't see it. "The problem now is how we'll get back without causing any suspicion. I mean, we arrived here, unconscious, and were basically hospitalized for five days without realizing it, so it's kind of difficult to just poof away without saying anything."

"It'd be very suspicious," Annabeth agreed.

Percy spoke up after a moment of silence, "Personally, I'm not too worried about that yet. We could just make up some story once we find out more about this 'Hagsworth' place, then 'poof away'. Right now, I'm more worried about the Headmaster. What are we going to tell that person when right now, we don't know anything?"

"We'll just have to go with the flow."

"I don't like that plan." Annabeth scowled.

"It's the only choice," I argued. "As Percy said, we don't know anything."

"Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Nicole spoke suddenly, her voice muffled by pillows and blankets, "From what I could tell, it's a boarding school somewhere in the UK. Madam Pomfrey had a bed and a closet in her office, which means she lives here, so it's likely that it's a boarding school. But witchcraft…" she voice seemed to frown, "and wizardry… That's just… strange. Even stranger than the name, Hogwarts."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "A school named after a pig's skin disease. Whoever started the school must be bonkers."

Nicole flipped over to face us. Her expression was closed and blank, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and flat. "You might not be wrong."

At that moment, the Infirmary door creaked open, temporarily revealing a long hallway. An old man with a long beard and half-moon spectacles strode in, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. He wore a strange dress-like garment that was the color of a ripe lemon plus sunshine: a bright golden yellow that was almost blinding.

Annabeth sat up quickly, smoothing out her mussed up blonde curls, Nicole right after her. After seeing the two girls next to me sit up, I copied their movements slowly, but not bothering about my hair. Percy didn't even try, just turning to one side and resting his head on a propped up hand.

"You are the Headmaster, I presume?" Annabeth said, slightly breathless.

"That would be me," the old man confirmed with a gentle smile. His eyes held knowledge unseen by most, and they were bright as the stars far, far away. From his pocket, he pulled out a stick and waved it slightly. Then suddenly, there was a comfortable armchair poised at the foot of Annabeth's bed. He sat down, propping his elbows on his knees, crossing his fingers to form a small resting place where he settled his chin on. "I am Albus Dumbledore," he introduced himself, "Headmaster of Hogwarts. You might have heard of it, despite your American accent."

None of us had registered his words: we were still shell-shocked from the sudden appearance of the armchair- from magic.

"Wizardry…" I heard Nicole whisper beneath her breath, barely audible.

Albus Dumbledore continued, "You four were found by Hagrid, our Gamekeeper. If you don't mind, would you please introduce yourselves?"

Nicole was the first to find her voice. "Um… right. I-I'm Nicole, and this is my half-brother, Nico," she gestured at me with an awkward hand. She then pointed at Annabeth and Percy. "That's Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson. They're dating." Afterwards, she realized what she had said, and flushed lightly, even though it was the truth.

The Headmaster nodded, the light in his eyes dancing merrily. "You are all American then, I'm guessing?"

"Yup." This time, it was Percy who answered. He had sat up after seeing the magic trick, and cleared his throat after he spoke.

"S-Sir," Annabeth inquired slightly, "Can you explain where exactly we are?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You are in Scotland, in a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where we teach young witches and wizards how to control their magic." We nodded, and then he threw out his own question, "How exactly did you all get here?"

The silence afterwards was suffocating. The four of us kept glancing at each other, as if expecting the others to speak and make up a story. However, none of us were able to think, not even Annabeth, being still slightly baffled at our current predicament.

Finally, Nicole spoke, but she didn't answer with a story. Instead, she asked, "Can you let us discuss about this first? It's… um… highly classified information."

"Of course." Dumbledore stood, and with a wave of his wand, the armchair disappeared again. "I will be at my office. When you are ready, just give a word to Madam Pomfrey, and she will take you there." Then with another kind smile, he swept out the room.

A heavy silence draped over the room until Annabeth asked Nicole, "What exactly are we going to discuss about?"

Nicole leapt out from under her covers. "Doesn't matter. We're not discussing anything. Nico, shadow-travel us back to Camp, please. I am _not _staying here for another moment. That was too awkward for me to bear. And not to mention the… the stick waving and things appearing out of nowhere…"

"You should calm down," Percy said, bemused. "But yeah, she's right. If we can't answer his questions, we go poof. Forget about this place and just get the hell out of here. Neeks?"

"Don't call me that." I shot him a glare, though I agreed with him. "I can get us back, maybe, but we might have to make a few stops here and there, or else it can get a little overwhelming."

"We're in Scotland, and we're trying to get back to America," Annabeth joined into the conversation, maybe you can cross the ocean in the first jump to Bermuda Island."

"That might be a little far," Nicole argued, "How about Ireland?"

Annabeth retorted, "I was thinking to let him do the long jump first, when he still has more energy. Unless, that is, you want him to go from Iceland, then Greenland or somewhere in Canada, and _then_ get to America? If you get to Bermuda first, after one more jump, we'd be in America."

"What if it doesn't work and we appear somewhere above the sea?"

"Then we're in Percy's circle of power. Simple as that."

"What about Nico and me? We can't possibly-,"

"Oh Hades," I groaned, "Just shut up and grab hold. I'll try to get to Bermuda."

Annabeth shrugged and placed her hand on my shoulder, Percy on my other side, while Nicole pouted slightly and held onto my hand.

With that done, we plunged into the shadows, heading back to Camp Half-Blood.

The winds ripped at us, the darkness was clear and cold. We were travelling far, being sucked towards the west…

And we promptly slammed into a wall.

The shadows lost its grip on us, and we tumbled out of the cool darkness into a familiar room.

We were still in the Infirmary.

I gawked. "What…"

"Has this ever happened before?" Nicole asked, worry lacing into her voice. I shook my head.

"This is certainly strange," Annabeth said thoughtfully. "Why don't you try again?"

I obeyed, yet once again, we were met head-on by an unseen wall.

"If we got in, we should be able to get out…" Annabeth left my side and peered out the Infirmary window. "I really don't understand all this, not to mention the magic…"

"Maybe it's the magic that's interfering?" Nicole suggested.

"Possible," Annabeth agreed. "Let's try to contact Chiron."

Percy took the cup of water from Nicole's bedside table and poured it into the patch of sunlight shining through the window. With a little manipulation of his powers, the liquid misted and created a rainbow.

Annabeth dug out a Drachma and tossed it in with a quick prayer to Iris.

The image began to connect, blurring, before it froze, and static took over the 'screen'.

"I've… never really used Iris Messaging before," Nicole admitted, "but I'm guessing that's not supposed to happen?"

Percy shook his head. "Nope. Usually it's just fine but now…"

"Something's not right with this place," Annabeth said seriously. "It wouldn't be safe to stay here."

"Except we can't get out," I pointed out. "And we apparently can't contact anyone either."

"Should we go find Dumbledore?" Nicole wondered. "He might be getting suspicious. Seriously, all the time we spent would have been more fruitful if we were actually discussing a backup story."

"Nicole's right," Annabeth sighed. "Since we can't escape, we'd have to face Dumbledore. What should we tell him?"

We thought for a moment before Percy spoke up hesitantly, "Maybe… that we have no idea how we got here or anything from our past? Like… we're amnesiac?"

Annabeth frowned. "We could use that," she started slowly, "but tweak it a little. Like, sometimes when people experience something that was too traumatizing, their brain might block out that part to prevent them from going crazy. It happens."

"So basically we're Americans who is experiencing self-forced Amnesia because of some super traumatizing thing that happened before we got here. We have basically no memories of how we got here and out life before that," Percy concluded.

"Yes, except some bits or pieces, I guess," Nicole added. "It would also explain why we're so close and defensive, maybe."

Annabeth nodded. "I'll go call Madam Pomfrey."

"I understand."

The four of us blinked. "Pardon?"

"I understand," Professor Dumbledore repeated. "This is very tragic indeed, children shouldn't have experienced such things, even if you don't remember it."

I almost scoffed at his words. We could hardly be considered children. For Zeus's sake, with the exception of Nicole, we've all been through a war!

"So… since you understand," Nicole's voice was a bit too eager, "you'd realize that we have no idea where we came from. I mean, we're obviously American but America is quite big…"

Dumbledore nodded.

"So if you don't mind, can we stay here? Temporarily. We won't disrupt anything; just let us stay until we find a way to go back. Please? Pretty please?"

I couldn't understand why Nicole was so desperate. Maybe she was guilty about getting us here in the first place, or she was just really, really nervous. She spoke quickly, before anyone else could open their mouths, and as she talked, her hands fluttered around her like little pale doves.

So the three of us just sat there on the hard wooden chairs, listening to Nicole bargain with the Headmaster of this mysterious 'Hogwarts'. After some arguing and plenty of reasoning from Nicole's part, Dumbledore agreed to let us stay until we 'find our memories', or something of that sort.

And thus, we began our adventure in Hogwarts.

**Apologies about the late chapter. I finished it, then completely forgot about it, until now. Please review!**


	7. Second

**VI**

**Nico**

For about an hour afterwards, the four of us did nothing except sit and wait as other teachers appeared at the doorway and discussed stuff with Dumbledore. It seemed like they were taking this really seriously, because they argued on and on about houses and classes and schedules. It was like we were going to stay here for the whole year- not just until we find a way to get out.

Not like we knew when we'd be able to find that.

Percy sighed for the hundredth time in the past five minutes as a man with dark, greasy hair and a bat-like appearance argued with a severe woman with her gray hair up in a tight bun. The man kept saying something about "throwing the hat on [us] and send them to their houses" while the older woman rebuked with words like "disruption" and "sudden changes", and how traumatized children should stay together since they came together.

Nicole wrung her hands next to me, her expression nervous, but the sincerity of her emotion was sucked away by the cold and dead of her eyes. She chewed on her dark red lips, her eyes darting back and forth uncertainly, her fingers fiddling with her hair, her shirt, the loose nail on her wooden chair, my shirt…

It was starting to become unnerving.

Finally, the teachers seem to decide on something, and at long last, they turned to us.

The woman said, "We have decided that you will be sorted into different houses, but you will not share a dorm with your housemates. Another place will be prepared for you."

"However," the dark-haired man spoke up, "you will be going to classes with your respectable houses, so the four of you might not be together in all classes. We will have to run a few tests to see how much you know so to decide on which year to place the four of you in. After all, with your memories in a mess, we do not know what you remember and what you don't."

We shared uneasy glances, then nodded hesitantly. This was not our playing field, we all knew that, and all we could do for now was to go with the flow.

Dumbledore clapped twice, his eyes twinkling merrily, and he plucked an old, worn pointed hat from a shelf, bringing it towards us.

"This is the Sorting Hat," he introduced. "It will be the one to sort you."

"Um…" I glanced uncertainly at the dusty fabric and loose seams, "Exactly how is it going to do that?"

"Simple." The four of us jumped when a new voice appeared from nowhere. Annabeth looked more interested than surprised as the tear in the dusty old hat opened again and spoke, "You've simply got to put me on, and I'll do the rest of the work."

"Okay," Percy tentatively raised a hand. "Before all that, would you mind to tell us what exactly are the houses you kept talking about?"

"Hogwarts is split into four different houses," answered the hat smoothly. "Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the wise, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Slytherin for the cunning."

"Why would you do that?" Annabeth seemed skeptical.

This time, it was the strict woman who answered. "It is to create healthy competitiveness at an early age."

The daughter of Athena looked like she wanted to protest more about how it will most likely only cause _hatred_ and _rivalry_, instead of _healthy competitiveness_. But Nicole spoke then, in her sweet and gentle voice, "Sounds interesting! Let's do it!"

She took the hat from Dumbledore's hand, and promptly stuffed it over Percy's head. He jerked, looking like he wants to take the ridiculous looking hat off, but then thought better of it. A thoughtful expression- something we'd never expect to see- flitted over his face, and there was a quizzical light in his eyes.

A few moments later, the hat ripped open and announced, "Gryffindor."

Ah, so that's how it works.

Percy took the hat off, giving it a strange look, his eyebrows disappearing off his forehead. He held it out to me. "You next?"

I shook my head. "Annabeth volunteers."

Shooting a deadly glare at me, Annabeth took it, and jammed it onto her head.

There was a moment of contemplative silence, before the hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!"

Percy furrowed his brows. "We're not in the same house."

"That, we can see," Annabeth replied drily.

Nicole took the hat from her, but didn't seem to be going to put it on anytime soon. But before she could place it on my head, there was a curt knocking on the door. The door opened without the Headmaster's consent, and _something_ walked in.

It seemed to be a toad of some sorts that's walking on its two hind legs. It was dressed completely in a disgusting pink, and there was a fly sitting atop its head. Briefly, I wondered if the toad noticed, because otherwise, the fly would probably be-

"Hem, hem."

I nearly jumped at the humanoid sound coming from the toad, and also nearly flinched at the amount of sugar in that voice- enough to give anyone diabetes. Percy had an expression of utmost disgust, while Annabeth simply looked a little crept out, especially as the toad continued, "Professor Dumbledore, I heard that they woke, so I hurried up here as soon as I could to see if I could be of any assistance." Then, she stood there, her stubby fingers clasped together, smiling as sweetly as a toad could.

Percy gagged discreetly.

"Professor Umbridge," the Headmaster greeted warmly, "we were just sorting the children. They will be joining our school temporarily."

"Oh?" The toad- Umbridge smiled again, this time towards us, showing pointed little teeth. "Do you not have a place to return?"

"No ma'am," Nicole replied smoothly; she was the only one that didn't seem to be affected too much by Umbridge, "Something happened- we're not too sure- back in the place we came from. But we don't remember anything."

The smile was sickening. "Well, I'm sure some proper Legilimency would help you remember."

"Professor," the gray-haired woman whose name we still didn't know interrupted, "Their amnesia may very likely be caused by trauma or something of the like. It'd be dangerous, unhealthy, to force unwanted memories to emerge before they are ready."

Umbridge thoughtfully cocked her head to one side. "How can not remembering ever be good? And you wouldn't know whether or not the memories were horrible without seeing it first, right, Professor McGonagall?"

_Professor Umbridge_, we decided, _was one of the stupidest creatures that had ever walked the earth_.

"Professor," Annabeth entered the conversation, her disgust carefully hidden, "If we didn't assume that something traumatizing happened before we got here, how else is it possible for us to suddenly not remember anything? We were also unconscious for five days, if you didn't notice." She just couldn't stop the sarcasm from dripping into her voice.

"A simple _Obliviate_, would do." Umbridge clapped her hands together, and briefly, I wondered if all the rings on her fingers will hurt when she claps.

"Pardon?"

"Don't tell me you forgot that as well!"

Umbridge continued speaking, but no words registered. Because really, we didn't know the 'oblivion' thing in the first place.

"Well, if you insist-"

"Nico's turn!" Nicole interrupted loudly as she stuffed the worn hat onto my head, efficiently pulling the conversation to a terminal.

The hat sighed in my head.

_Interesting._ I jumped slightly, but after seeing the hat talk, I wasn't too surprised anymore. _Where would you belong?_

I didn't reply, didn't say anything, even when I felt the hat rummaging around my head, searching deep, deep into my soul. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, and I did not like it one bit. It didn't take long before the hat retreated, and announced, "Slytherin."

"We're not in the same house," Percy frowned. "Again."

I shrugged, and handed the hat to Nicole, who hesitated before gingerly placing the hat over her dark hair. It slipped down to her eyes.

There was a moment of silence, before the hat shouted, "Slytherin."

Nicole snatched it off immediately, and she wasn't smiling. Her expression was blank, accented even more by her emotionless eyes. She handed the Sorting Hat to Dumbledore, before shooting me a strained smile. "We're in the same house." Her voice sounded exhausted.

Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod, and gestured at us to stand up and follow her. Umbridge didn't budge from her spot near the door, her eyes following us out the room and didn't leave until the door swung fully shut.

That's when the elder woman spoke. "As mentioned before, we will have an extra tower prepared for you. That will be your common room, though you are required to go to class with fellow students of your house. _After_ you all take the tests, of course. How old are you?"

The staircase rumbled beneath our feet, and the four of us grabbed desperately onto the railing in shock.

"Sixteen," Annabeth said breathlessly. "Percy and I are the same age, while Nico and Nicole are both twelve."

"Then that'll be six years and second years." McGonagall paused. "Do any of you remember _anything_ from before?"

"No, sorry," replied Annabeth, her voice steadier now that the staircase had stopped moving. "Just that we were together, so…"

Her unspoken words were: _we need to stick together_.

Professor McGonagall nodded, and we spent the rest of the journey in silence, before we stopped in front of a wooden door.

"I know you are tired," said McGonagall, "but we are busy, so we'd like to get the tests out of the way as quickly as possible. Professor Snape would arrive shortly to examine you and decide whether or not you'd be ready for your year."

We entered the room, an office, and before long, McGonagall left.

Left alone, we immediately relaxed.

"We don't even get to study," Annabeth groaned.

"This is bad," Nicole muttered. "Really bad."

"I guess all we can really do is to just fail the tests," sighed Percy, "and wish they don't place us with the first graders or something."

Mentally, I agreed.

After all, there wasn't anything else we could do right now, is there?

"Seriously, amnesia?"

Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "I have to agree with you, that wasn't very well thought out, even though I could tell that there was at least one extremely bright mind in that small group of strange children."

"'Strange' is an understatement," Snape looked unimpressed.

Dumbledore just chuckled again.

McGonagall had taken the kids, and Umbridge had left shortly after. There was a short moment of silence in the Headmaster's office.

"What are you going to do about them, Dumbledore? They are obviously hiding something, even though we haven't done anything to prompt them to lie. I'm ashamed to say this, but perhaps Umbridge was right in one point: Legilimency. Both of us are skilled enough in it that-"

"Maybe not, Severus," Dumbledore sighed a little thoughtfully.

"And why is that?"

"There are things that don't wish to be found. Others might be cautious at first, before opening at the time it's ready. I think this is the latter case. Have you seen the look on the girl?" the Headmaster of Hogwarts now looked a little bit concerned. "The younger one, I mean. There was such a dead look in her eyes. Whatever made her like that might've been very horrible indeed, and since they were together, I could only guess that the same thing happened to them all, and the girl was just not as skilled in hiding it."

"Torture," Snape replied drily, "can very well do that. And torture also happens to be one of the Dark Lord's favorite methods of interaction."

Dumbledore didn't relent either. "Wait. Just wait and see. We don't know anything yet, and shouldn't jump to conclusions too quickly."

The dark haired man snorted. _As if you didn't._

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes twinkled. _It was a guess, not a conclusion._

At that moment, there was a brisk knock on the door, and McGonagall entered again.

"They are in your office, Severus," she addressed the younger man. "You should go examine them, though I doubt you'd get much results. I will prepare their living area."

Nodding, Snape left, McGonagall right behind him, and the door swung shut, leaving Dumbledore to the silence of his thoughts.

_Torture indeed…_

**Honestly, I have no idea how to write Umbridge. It's been too long since I've read the book. However, I thought that she might be the type of person that acts all nice and polite at first to make a good first impression, before becoming a tiny package of evil. She works for the ministry, after all, so she must have _some _manners. Anyways, thank you for reading! Please Review!**


	8. Whispering

**VII**

**Nico**

We failed the tests.

It wasn't anything surprising, as we didn't have any interaction with wands and witches and whatnot before this, but Annabeth still looked pretty unhappy with the results. We did not understand half of the things Professor Snape - the greasy, bat-like teacher - was talking about. By answering, "I don't know" for most of the questions and "What the hell is that?" for the rest, several tests were quickly finished with every single question answered. Annabeth and Nicole were trying their best through books they had read, but in the end, it didn't make much of a difference.

Because why in heavens name would you want to summon a bunch of chirping yellow canaries flying around your head? By the very end, Snape was looking wearier than us, and when Professor McGonagall returned to check on us, she found four very annoyed, dispirited teenagers, along with an exasperated bat. Snape told her that we had finished out tests, with 'unexpected' results, and McGonagall ushered us away, eyebrows lifted high on her forehead.

"Professor, where are we going?" Nicole inquired with a small sigh.

"To your dorms. I was able to tidy up a tower for you four while you were in doing the… tests." It was obvious that Professor McGonagall doubted we even treated the questionings like a test.

"The tests were kind of hard," Percy piped up, attempting to look abashed.

The elder woman's eyebrows disappeared off her forehead. "Was it?" Then, she sighed. "If it was anyone other than Dumbledore, you would be considered a Muggle and be forced to leave. You should be thankful."

"Um… thank you?" I spoke uncertainly, keeping my sarcasm at bay because honestly, I think it would've been much easier for us if we were let out. There was something in the school that prevented us from leaving, but if the wizards forced us to leave, we might be able to return home yet.

The rest of the journey was travelled in silence, until McGonagall announced quite suddenly, "Here it is."

We were at the end of a small corridor, where a painting of three old wizards playing poker argued over the table. The professor cleared her throat once, attempting – and failing – to catch the wizards' attentions. It took her several tries to bring them out of their argument while doing so politely, and immediately, we knew that life's going to become a tad bit more difficult, and loud, and annoying.

"What d'ya want?" one of the old men in the painting asked, basically shouting.

McGonagall replied, "Chocolate Frogs."

"What?"

"Chocolate Frogs," she repeated, enunciating each syllable clearly.

One wizard raised a gigantic ear trumpet and pointed it towards us while shouting back, "What?!"

"Chocolate Frogs!" McGonagall had to lean forward and shout as well. "The password!"

"Oh, the password!" The three old wizards looked positively delighted, for some reason, and with a chorus of cackling and welcomes, the portrait swung open to reveal a relatively spacious room packed with armchairs and couches, with a few tables scattered here and there.

The five of us entered, the portrait swinging shut behind us.

"The password is Chocolate Frogs." McGonagall sounded extremely tired. "Say it, and the door will open. The dormitories are one the sides," she gestured to the two small flights of stairs at the sides, "Boys, and girls. The bathrooms are inside."

"Thank you," Nicole said, smiling, and then McGonagall left, leaving us in the Common Room, unsure of what to do.

Annabeth was the first to move, heading towards the staircase leading up to the girls' dormitories. "I'm just going to go check," she announced before disappearing up the stairs, Nicole trailing close behind her.

Shrugging, I turned to Percy, who sighed. "Let's go up as well." So the two of us trekked upstairs and was greeted by a very plain room, surrounded by stone walls and floors with two four-poster beds a few meters apart. A wide window at the end of the long room was thrown open to let in fresh air, and a plain wooden door led to a simple bathroom with shower stalls and an empty bath pool at the middle of the tiled room.

I flopped down onto the bed closest to the window, sighing as I sank into the mattress. It was a nice bed, but there was a foreign feel to it, and I sat up immediately, a little uncomfortable. My feet dangled half an inch above the floor, and when they swung, my heels bumped against something hard and wooden hidden beneath the bed.

Curious, I reached down, and pulled out a large trunk, grunting at the weight.

"What is it, Nico?" Percy called.

"I found this," I answered, fumbling with the locks and flipping the lid open. Inside were layers and piles of neatly folded clothes. I held one up, thinking that it was a long jacket, before realizing it was something similar to what the people in Hogwarts were wearing: robes. Slightly disgusted, I tossed it onto the bed.

Percy checked beneath his own bed, and pulled out a box similar to mine. His trunk contained similar things inside, only in his size.

"Is this supposed to be out school uniform?" he sounded utterly horrified as he displayed the black dress pants, white blouse, dark gray vest, and tie.

"This is part of it as well," I gestured at the discarded robe on my bed. Digging deeper, I found more casual pants, underwear, socks and shirts: all of them black, gray, white, or green. Then, my hand brushed against something soft and velvety. I wedged my fingers around the slippery cloth, and pulled out a long pouch of dark purple velvet.

"Nico!" Nicole suddenly cried out frantically from below. Followed by the shout was the sound of her footsteps hurrying up the stairs and bursting into the boys' dormitory. Her dark eyes were wide and shocked; in one hand, she held the same velvet pouch I had, and in the other, she held a stick.

No – not a stick. She was holding a wand.

"I found this in the pouch…" she explained when she noticed our slack-jawed look.

Immediately, Percy tore into his trunk, clothes flying before he dug up a similar bag. I held mine in my hands, almost afraid of what might be inside. But when I felt it, there was only something long and hard and thin, just like a wand, and when I pried open the strings and dumped the contents onto the sheets of my bed, a wand fell out, along with a small sheet of paper.

The wand was long and straight, thin at one end and thick at the other. It was made of a smooth white wood, and was cold to the touch. When I held it up, something cold and uncomfortable slithered up my arm and settled into the bones as if the wand was tying itself to me.

Annabeth entered the room as well, her own wand in her hand. Percy was holding his up, a look of discomfort flitting across his expression.

"It is strange," Annabeth commented, looking down at the stick in her hand. Her wand was long – almost a foot in length – and it was made of a rich, dark wood.

"It's unnatural," Percy added, examining the burnt gray color of his own. "It feels… inferior."

I agreed silently, and replaced the wand on the mattress. The cold feeling did not fade.

"What is this?" Nicole piped up curiously, holding up the slip of paper that had fallen out with my wand. "I didn't have this in my bag." Then, she tilted her head to one side, furrowing her brows as she turned it over and noticed, "There're words on here."

"What does it say?" Percy asked.

"I think it's a poem of some sort," came her reply before she read aloud,

_"Four shall travel through the magical land,_

_A liar, a spy, a helping hand._

_A single life marked by a cursed blade,_

_To bring back the dead: a choice to be made._

_A sacrifice, an exchange with the shadows,_

_An eye for an eye, a soul for a soul."_

"It sounds like… a prophecy," Annabeth breathed.

"I wish it's not," Percy muttered. "If it is, it'd make this a quest. And I am not having a quest in a school."

"Though it might be considerably more comfortable." I pointed out, gesturing at the beds.

"It shouldn't be a prophecy, right?" Nicole had a thoughtful expression on her face. "Aren't prophecies supposed to be spoken by the Oracle of Delphi? Isn't that the- the-" She gestured widely around her head, as if trying to imitate someone. "The one with-with the, uh…"

"Rachel?" Percy guessed. "The one with the red hair?"

Nicole nodded slowly. "She's possessed."

"That's one way of putting it." I muttered, and took the paper from her and reading over the Greek words. "One problem here though, is that it sounds bad, and a little dark and ominous, so there's likeliness that it's a prophecy."

"Gods, no," Percy groaned, tilting his head back to the ceiling. "Not another one."

Just when Annabeth opened her mouth to add something to the conversation, a bird swooped into the tower from the open window, dropping a thin parcel onto her lap and settled on her shoulder, hooting happily. Annabeth herself seemed quite surprised, but she pet the owl gently and picked up the parcel. Inside were several sheets of paper with charts on them, and each had one of our names on it. Then there was a letter, addressed to all four of us.

Annabeth was the one who squinted over the English words, reading over it slowly before translating and summarizing everything for the rest of us.

The letter was about the tests we took earlier – and obviously failed. Professor McGonagall wrote with a brisk hand, betraying no emotions through her words other than strictness. We received horrible scores, below first year level, but due to our ages, she couldn't put all of us in the first year. Ideally, Percy and Annabeth, aged 16, were supposed to be in the sixth year, but they had been lowered into the fifth year so they have a chance to catch up. Nicole and I, on the other hand, were twelve and thirteen respectively, and both of us were placed into the first year.

Annabeth seemed relieved that the age difference with her classmates wouldn't be too large, but judging by Percy's expression, he'd rather be in the first year with us. Nicole noticed as well, and a small but troubled smile made its way up her lips. Honestly, I understood how she felt.

Classes began tomorrow.

For the first time in my life, boredom was a very possible killer.

History of Magic was a gigantic joke.

After seeing the class on my schedule, I was a teeny, tiny bit hopeful that this class would teach us something about where we were and our predicament. Maybe a few answered questions, here and there, but no. No, life just doesn't work that way.

Because, no, professor, I had no idea how many clans of Goblins fought in the war in 1837; I don't know when Unicorn hunting was banned, or how the war of Trolls and Giants affected the Magical and Muggle society, or where Werewolves were first spotted. I _don't_ know who Uluric the Ugly was, and I am absolutely _clueless_ about what in the name of Hades is _Quidditch_?

So why did the Professor keep glancing in our direction? Why did he keep staring and pausing?

Our Slytherin classmates were on high alert. They stayed far from where we sat, even though we wore the same green-edged robes as them, and had the same green and silver Slytherin badges on our chests as them. They glanced as often as Professor Binns, but Nicole didn't care. She was drawing a cat on the corner of her piece of parchment paper, her quill scratching lightly against the thick material. Beside the cat, she added a bowl of cat food, before sitting back, looking satisfied at her simple handiwork. She took a deep, soothing breath, before returning to add dialogue between the cat and its can of food, humming quietly to herself.

The Ravenclaw students were the only ones who had ignored us at first, only sparing us a quick, curious glance before filling up the empty seats, their blue-lined robes and hardworking attitude an obvious contrast to the Slytherins. But now they glared at us – specifically Nicole – for the 'racket' we were stirring up. This time, Nicole did notice, and she offered them a kind, sweet smile with a little wave of her hand.

Professor Binns cleared his throat, staring at us with the strangest expression on his face: it was a mixture of fear, horror, bewilderment, and awkwardness.

But really, it was no wonder.

After all, Professor Binns was a _ghost_. He was dead, and apparently, he had been dead for a long, long time.

Probably killed himself because of how boring the contents he had to teach was, was my thoughts, but when I told Nicole, she gave me an incredulous look and corrected me in a sagely, scholarly voice, "No, Nico. He _died_ of the boredom of his subject." I didn't agree, mainly because that was even more outrageous, but we couldn't exactly start arguing in the middle of a class filled with Ravenclaws, no matter how boring the subject was.

But Binns was a ghost – not the only one, but still a ghost, and even if he didn't understand who we were, he could feel the tug, and the horror, and the fear.

When class ended, it was a relief, and the two of us flooded out of the classroom with our fellow Slytherins. But they veered away from us, keeping their distances, even when Nicole offered a chocolate bar she had snatched from the breakfast table when the meal had gotten too awkward and we had decided to flee.

Too many silent questions were desperate to be asked; too many suspicions, too many doubts, but there were no announcements made by the Headmaster or his Deputy, and we had no answers either.

Children from other houses backed away when we approached as well, and it was quickly becoming evident that Slytherin was not the most popular house in Hogwarts. Nicole pretended not to mind, skipping to others of around the same age and offering chocolate. But they hissed as us, and glared, and their expressions were both disgusted and fearful.

By the time the tenth student we had attempted to ask for directions refused, I was ready to snap.

And obviously, we were late for our next class.

Magic reminded Annabeth too much of the sorceress Circe for her to be comfortable around it. Even though Circe had been all singing and seducing and speaking with honey-filled words, the wand waving and spells did not make her feel any less of a hypocrite.

She was a daughter of Athena, and none of them had any extremely special or flashy powers other than their impressive brainpower. Children of Hermes were similar, not possessing anything incredible, but quick in every sense.

Strangely enough, Charms reminded Annabeth of Cabin Eleven.

The wand work was quick and twisting, very tricky to get correct. It was required to pronounce a spell clearly and confidently, and according to the Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, "You should always call out a spell in that sense, even if you are _not_ confident."

Charms were strange. It wasn't exactly defensive, but it wasn't offensive either. It was a little of both, with a hint of Transfiguration. Annabeth watched Professor Flitwick weave a tapestry using the colors of a rainbow, and it didn't, couldn't… wouldn't register in her brain. Charms really were just that: charms. Illusions, producing something from nothing, and creating nothing with something.

And she remembered all the sorceresses in the stories she had heard and had encountered, and she felt a little sick.

Charms were definitely not her favorite subject.

Except Potions were worse.

The Love Potion they brewed was simple enough: all you had to do was read through the instructions, rummage through the cupboard and bottles, cut things up, stir things a little, and – _voila!_ There you go.

But she remembered the strawberry milkshake that had turned Percy into a guinea pig. An adorable one at that, but still, a guinea pig.

She remembered poisons, and burning rivers, and drugs, and for some reason, Annabeth was suddenly so, so glad that she was a daughter of Athena, and that all she had was her powerful mind.

Percy felt a little guilty for trying to look into the future, because it was supposed to be Rachel's job.

But then he actually _went _to the class, and decided that whether or not he did it wouldn't make a difference, because honestly speaking, Percy was simply unable to understand just what the oversized owl at the front of the classroom was trying to do. The only remotely purposeful thing Professor Trelawney had done in the fifth year Divination class was take attendance and telling them to open their books.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley sat a little distance away from Percy, every now and then glancing at the sudden new addition to their year. As far as they knew, no one had moved into the Gryffindor tower, but the foreigner's robes were lined with the same fiery red as them, and he was in many of their classes.

And he wasn't the only one.

Hogwarts was a gigantic, well-oiled machine running on chaos and gossip, and by the beginning of the fourth class, there wasn't a single student who did not hear about the pair of siblings in the Slytherin first year, and the new Ravenclaw and Gryffindor in the fifth. All four of them were American, and all four of them were new. They seemed to have popped out of nowhere.

The professors had nothing to say about it; they acted like nothing was different, except Percy Jackson made _all_ the difference, and his looks were only one small part of it.

Hermione Granger commented on the awkwardness of Percy's hold on his wand during Transfiguration, and then there was the swiftness of the way he handled the tools in Herbology and Potions. Harry and Ron brushed it off, thinking it as Hermione being too observant and cautious, but what made them pause was really how clueless the American was.

His class participation remained in the low minimum, and the only words they had heard from Percy so far were "Nice to meet you" when Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had decided to approach him, but it was so obvious just how little he knew of what the professors were teaching about. Talking portraits made him gape, and so did the moving and vanishing doors, staircases, corridors, everything.

Their only assumptions were that Percy Jackson was stupid, because the boy was fifteen at the very least, and if he was holding a wand, he couldn't possibly _not_ have interacted with sorcery and witchcraft.

But he acted like he didn't, and that was what intrigued the Golden Trio the most.

Then Trelawney had stared at the boy, mouth agape, eyes wide behind her magnifying glasses, and she spoke of his death the way she had prophesized Harry's; and while the new student had seemed surprised at first, his expression was not one of shock and fear, but of understanding, realization, casualness, and maybe even a pinch of amusement.

And that was how it all began; and they weren't even halfway through the week.

**A relative boring chapter, sorry about that, but it's pretty important; action builds up slowly. Wish you enjoyed it, and please review!**

**Oh yeah, Ana. CAT AND FOOD.**


	9. Secrets

**VIII**

**Percy**

The school was becoming a zoo.

Some kind of exotic toad was sitting behind the desk at the front of the classroom. It was an ugly shade of hot pink, with small, pointy teeth and clawed fingers. It was abnormally large for a toad as well, but since it probably came from some tropical rainforest, I was honestly not surprised. You never know what the wilderness is breeding.

The toad also seemed to be extremely stupid, completely unaware of the fly that sat on its head, waiting for it to stretch out its tongue and-

"Mr. Jackson, are you reading your chapter?"

_No, Professor. I _can't_._

"Of course," I answered stiffly, "still working on it."

"Keep your eyes on your book, then."

"Yes, ma'am."

They called this class 'Defense Against the Dark Arts', but honestly speaking, I think even Nico can teach the class better than the… thing at the front of the room.

Such vile creatures did not belong in a castle, unless you were talking about 'the Princess and the Frog'.

The Headmaster should send it back to whatever hellhole it came from.

In Annabeth's opinion, the most interesting subject so far was Transfiguration. The class was taught by Professor McGonagall, and had proven to be one of the most difficult subjects in the school. The wand work was often complicated, and the numerous spells difficult to remember; but Annabeth was a daughter of Athena, and she would not back down from an intellectual challenge, even if she wasn't actually a witch.

Transfiguration involved changing shape, size, form, and compound. Creating life with the nonliving, and vice versa. It was similar to Charms, but, in a way, more intense, and more power was needed to perform the spells perfectly.

Currently, Annabeth was attempting to transform a butterfly from a leaf. The wand was cold in her hand, foreign, inferior, but it was trying. They were both trying while they barely tolerated each other.

Her next attempt prompted the leaf to be blasted off the table, but with a quick flick of the wand, it returned to her, and she tried again. _'Accio'_ was one of the most useful spells she had found in the textbooks, and it was easy to do. She was able to master it in a matter of minutes.

But then she returned to her leaf, shooting the spell at it once more, but accidentally prodded it too hard, and it burst into flames.

Professor McGonagall didn't even bat an eye, merely sweeping away the ashes and placing another in its place.

Annabeth sighed, but took a deep breath, pointed her wand at the leaf and calling out the spell in a strong, confident voice.

There was a small tug inside of her.

Ice spread up her elbows, so cold it burned.

The leaf twitched as though some unfelt breeze had shifted through, and then the sides flapped once, twice – and it fluttered away from her, red, yellow blotches over its symmetrical wings.

Annabeth fell back onto her stool, gritting her teeth tightly while the coldness slowly ebbed away.

Magic was _unnatural_.

It was common sense that life and death did not mix, and that was the reason why Nico's least favorite subject was Herbology.

Professor Sprout split them into groups of two, and Nico was torn from Nicole, paired up with a Gryffindor boy with the name of McMullen, who looked absolutely horrified that he was being paired up with a _Slytherin_.

Nico, on the other hand, didn't really care, and he took their assigned pot from the professor, and placed it on their table, near Nicole's, where she was holding a one-way conversation with her Gryffindor partner.

They were dealing with something called 'Velvet Mint', or something of the sort. It was a small, leafy plant covered in a thick layer of fuzz, and it was apparently a minor ingredient in many healing potions, such as the throat-soothing potion and fever-calming potion, which would be taught in the third and fourth years, not that Nico cared. Their job was to carefully shear off the top layer of fuzz on the fat, juicy leaves and then extract their seeds from the round tips of their roots. So basically dissect the plant.

Nico and McMullen finished trimming off fuzz, and Nico reached out to pull the plant out of the soil to get its seeds when it reacted violently with his touch and promptly disintegrated into nothing. McMullen stared, horrified, while the son of Hades awkwardly shook the dust out of his hands and tried to look like it wasn't his fault.

On the other side, Nicole allowed her partner to uproot the plant, but when she touched the roots in an attempt to extract a seed, their plant disappeared into dust as well. Nico was guiltily satisfied realizing that he wasn't the only one who screwed up. Her Gryffindor partner, a young girl with dirty blonde hair named Wessel or Russell, began to shout as Nicole bashfully dusted off her hands, and Professor Sprout hurried over, baffled at the display in front of her, but could only conclude that the plants were acting on defense against people taking their seeds without it being ready yet, even though theirs were the only ones that had disintegrated and the professor had never seen it happen before.

Even though Nico took an immediate liking of the Herbology professor, him, Nicole, and their two partners were only able to receive half points for their assignments, due the fact that they were unable to finish it.

Wessel/Russell burst into tears, complaining and wailing that it wasn't her fault, while McMullen retreated into an angry, glaring silence. Nico glared back, feeling secretly bad, but two days later, while passing a large group of Gryffindors, Nicole was nearly pushed off the staircase, and his guilt dissipated into anger.

Astronomy, taught by Professor Sinistra, was the easiest subject by far. It didn't include wand-waving, cutting, or much thinking at all. All you needed to do was peek into a microscope, take notes, and memorize a bunch of names.

The professor was a calm, gentle woman with brown skin, dark eyes, and brown, nearly black hair. She explained things thoroughly in a rich, smooth voice, but really, there weren't much to explain, and most of the class was spent copying positions of constellations and identifying stars.

They were finally let out at 10:45, everyone bleary-eyed and yawning, and Nico didn't bother to shower before pulling the curtains shut and dropping into bed.

The Gryffindor common room was dark save for the gently glowing coals in the fireplace and two candles lighting up a desk in a small corner next to the tower window. Outside, the waxing moon clung to wisps of gray clouds that did nothing to conceal the sparkling stars obvious in the dark sky from a tower on a Scottish mountain.

Hermione Granger sighed softly, blinking against her own drowsiness. Two, nearly three months into the school year and she was already working towards midnight. Perhaps Harry and Ron were right: a little bit of procrastination doesn't hurt as long as it doesn't drag out for too long.

Slightly distracted, the Gryffindor glanced out the window, pressing her forehead against the cool glass and feeling soothing, mind-clearing iciness spread across the front of her head until it almost burned.

But then, far, far below the Gryffindor tower, something moved.

Hermione watched in a sleepy haze as a small figure edged a side door shut, cloak tightly wrapped around thin shoulders and hood up to keep the night chill at bay, before it began slowly making its way towards-

She jolted awake.

Somebody – a student was going towards the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione leapt up from her seat, the candles on the table flickering at the sudden movement. Her wand was in her pocket, if she hurried…

She rushed down the tower, and burst out into the open air, her heavy gasps misting in the cold surroundings. It didn't matter if a professor found her; she was a Prefect: she had a job to do.

The student was at the edge of the forest, and Hermione began sprinting towards the direction, noting the tiny size of the student – probably a curious first year – and was about to call out when he, or she, disappeared into the shadows.

Hermione plunged headfirst into Forbidden Forest, feeling the significant drop of temperature, a chill clawing up her spine. For one scary second, she thought she had lost him, but then she caught sight of a figure hurrying across a stray shaft of moonlight, heard the sound of cloak slithering against rotting leaves and soil, and she burst into a run again.

The student was quick and sneaky, and Hermione lost him several times before catching a glimpse of his movements before he disappeared again. Despite the racket she made as she stumbled through the uneven ground, protruding roots, and stray underbrush, the student made no sign to show that he heard her, and continued on his way.

Then, he stopped.

Hermione froze as well, a few meters away from the clearing, but able to see the student clearly.

He was at a clearing washed by silver light, and he seemed to be waiting. After half a minute, she saw his shoulders visibly relax, slumping slightly, and then he reached up to uncover his hood.

Hermione blinked. It was a girl. Dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans under the cloak, making Hermione mistake her as a student in the boys' uniform at first, but it was a girl nonetheless. She was a foreign face, but not unfamiliar. The brunette stared at the pale, glowing face, shadows sharp, dark hair falling in thick waves before disappearing where the girl had tucked her hair under the collar of the cloak, dark eyes lifeless and luring, before recognizing her as one of the American students who had appeared in their classes with no reason or announcement. The girl was a Slytherin, Hermione recalled, in first year, and was the sister of the dark-eyed boy, who was also a first year Slytherin.

Realizing this, Hermione was even more determined to bring the girl back, because the Forbidden Forest was dangerous, and-

Somebody else was coming.

It was another cloaked figure, slithering out of the shadows like an unassuming ghost, and in fact, Hermione didn't even notice the newcomer until cold, sharp words pierced through the clearing in an icy, feminine voice. "So you came." The tone was chilling to the extent that it was mocking, proud and high and _wicked_. It made Hermione shudder, her knees going weak as she tensely listened to the conversation unfolding in front of her.

"Of course." The Slytherin girl – Nicole, her name was, spoke in lifeless monotone. "You called for me, so I came. Now what do you want?" Somehow, the words sounded biting, but there were no real emotions in her voice.

"Confirmations," was the reply, _and what did it mean?_ "I want answers. Tell me everything you know."

"There is nothing." Now, Nicole's voice gained a colder edge. "You told me I'd be able to feel it, but I felt nothing. You told me he'd give me answers, but he had nothing. If there was somebody I had to kill, then you were wrong – there is nobody. This castle is filled with nothingness."

"Impossible," the woman snarled. "Harry Potter is in that castle – the Boy Who Lived! He has something, something that we need. Screaming books and human coverings, dead monsters and more are dying: if you find nothing but dust, Nicole, it's what you'll become." She began to pace as she continued, voice angry and impatient and cruel and _desperate_. "_'An eye for an eye, a soul for a soul'._ That's what you were told. If you couldn't find one that _works_, then use the closest one you can grab. If that one fails, there's plenty more! You have until the end of the year; we're waiting."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella," Nicole whispered, her tone soft but biting. "I will not take the lives of _children-_"

"Harry Potter," Bella interrupted. "I want him. This is a command."

Nicole stiffened, jaw locking tight, hands clenched to fists.

"He survived once, he should be able to do it again." Bella had finally stopped pacing, pausing in front of Nicole and leaning close to the pale face. "Him, or your brother, or you. I'm personally vouching for the first one: no harm done to any of us."

"Harry Potter is still a _child_," Nicole gritted out.

"Yes, and I want him dead." The woman then glanced down at Nicole's face, threw back her head, and laughed. "Oh, stop _pretending_, Nicky. When has a killer like you ever cared about age?"

And that was when Hermione Granger spun around and fled.

Her blood was running ice in her veins, her legs were paralyzed but her mind was screaming, and she didn't stop running until she was halfway up the Gryffindor tower, panting heavily, eyes haunted, hair wild. She nearly screamed the password at the Fat Lady, who had been slumbering, but jerked awake with a shrill yelp, and let her in with much unhappiness and reluctance.

But Hermione fell into the closest armchair, her muscles sore and bones feeling like jelly. The voices were still echoing in her mind, bouncing off the walls of her skull and repeating over, and over again.

_'I want him dead'._

_Who_ was that? Hermione wanted to scream. Who was Nicole talking to? What were they talking about? _Who was Nicole?_

Bella. The woman's name was Bella. It was an eerily familiar name, and despite it being so common-

A family tree hanging on the peeling walls of a dark, dank mansion. Blaring, terrified newspaper headlines screaming about prisons and killers and-

Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black, Sirius's cousin.

Wanted criminal, escapee from Azkaban. Death Eater. Sadist. Murderer.

_'I want him dead'._

Hermione Granger broke down and wept.

* * *

**Short, but pretty important chapter, I guess. I might be finally picking up on writing this story again! -or maybe not. Still have an English and History essay to write., and a project I have to finish for my brother Still a brilliant procrastinator. I'll try though, I really will. Well, late Happy Christmas and early Happy New Years! Probably won't spout out another chapter until like, March or April 2017. Please review, though! It usually pushes me to work faster, and it makes me happy. Because it's late now, here in China, I'm feeling weird, and well, Please review! Probably going to regret writing so much stuff in the Author's Note, but please Review! It's a strange chapter. The words are strange, the sentences doesn't make sense, the _plot_ doesn't make sense... Please review!**

**Kesesesese~**


	10. Never Cease

**IX**

**Hermione**

"Blimey, Hermione. You look terrible," said Ron between mouthfuls of toast and jam. Harry glanced up, and nodded once.

"Yeah," he admitted. "You kind of do."

"Why, thank you," I snapped at them wearily, my voice lacking its usual sharpness. I knew it was true though. Last night, I fell asleep crying, and regretted it immediately when I woke this morning. I felt as if somebody had pumped the skin around my eyes full of air, and now they were swollen and red. The state of my hair did not help one bit.

"Did something happen?" Harry inquired. "You look like you've been crying."

I shook my head slowly. It took all my effort not to tell them everything right here and then, but the Gryffindor table was cramped with ears in every direction, so telling them right now would be unadvisable, especially if Nicole really was going to kill Harry, gossip would be the last thing we'd need. None of the Americans were here yet, but if the information got leaked out, they were bound to find out. The Hogwarts' gossip system was very efficient.

I filled a bowl with porridge, but when I placed it in front of me, I found no urge to eat. As if sensing my unhappiness and turmoil, neither of the boys said anything, occupying themselves with the food. I picked at the porridge for a few minutes, before standing abruptly.

"I forgot my Arithmancy textbook," I mumbled an excuse, and fled the Great Hall before anyone could point out that I've never forgotten my textbook in the dorm before (and the book also happened to be tucked under my arm). I didn't know why I felt compelled to leave; I should've brought Harry and Ron with me, so I could tell them everything in somewhere private.

"Good morning, Hermione." I jumped slightly at the American accent, and spun around expecting the worse, but only saw Percy and Annabeth, hand in hand, walking towards the Great Hall. No signs of Nicole. Annabeth had one hand up in a small uncertain wave, because even though we shared classes, we weren't very familiar with each other. I gave her a weak smile and waved a little as well, before hurrying off again.

Then, a horrible thought struck me. What if all the Americans were working together? The idea of killers hidden in the same classes as us was terrifying. But then I mentally shook my head. Bellatrix had said something last night, when she told Nicole that she wanted Harry Potter: it was _'him, or your brother, or you'_. If the other Americans were involved, I doubt Bellatrix would threaten to take her brother instead of Harry. Bellatrix issuing her demands to Nicole, the youngest of the group, would be strange as well, so it is more likely that she was in it alone.

A small part of me, not overridden by terror, pitied her.

I climbed the last flight of stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room, gave the Fat Lady the password, and entered the safety of the dorms. Nicole was a Slytherin; this was the place she'd least likely show up. The Common Room was near empty, save for a few seventh years skipping breakfast to work on their overload of homework. I stood there for a moment, taking several deep, calming breaths, before going up another short flight of stairs towards the fifth year dorm room.

A strange feeling of peace washed over me as the warmth of the Gryffindor tower filled me completely. Maybe I should skip classes today. Tell Harry and Ron that I'm not feeling well.

Somebody was still inside the room, humming quietly, which was strange. I thought I was the last one to leave.

I opened the door, and then halted immediately. Because there _was_ someone in the room. And I _was _the last person to leave. My Arithmancy textbook dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

"Hello, Hermione," Nicole purred. "You're late."

Nico di Angelo sincerely regretted deciding to skip breakfast. He pressed a hand over his stomach as it growled, aching for food. Maybe he was exaggerating a little, but he was a growing boy, so therefore extreme hunger despite a giant dinner the night before was completely acceptable. He should've gone down to grab something first before coming here, to a seventh floor corridor.

A few days ago, after Astronomy, he had been trudging down the tower when he felt a strange tug in his gut. They had been on the seventh floor, trying to find a flight of stairs that wasn't moving around and confusing them all. The feeling was different from the familiar ring in his head or sudden tightness of his chest when someone he knew dies; it was more like something was calling out to him, luring him towards it, like someone was tugging on his sleeve, whispering his name over and over again. He found himself straying away from their little group of Slytherin first years, only to be dragged back by Nicole, who was oblivious to what he was feeling.

"It's late," she had murmured. "Best if we stay together in case Filch decides to make us prey."

But he had felt the tug before, several times. It had been much weaker, and so he had ignored it, but now that he knew where it might be calling him from, it was harder let go.

So this morning, when he had woken to the familiar tugging feeling that had plagued him on and off since they joined the ranks of Hogwarts, he gave the excuse of needing fresh air to escape the others. Hopefully, they didn't suspect anything, and were already on their way to breakfast.

He turned around the corner, where the feeling was the strongest, most persistent, and he found himself confused by the utter emptiness of that hall. No doors, no windows, nothing. Nico continued down the hall, listening to an unknown but familiar voice screaming his name, pleading urgently, and felt like invisible hands were clawing at his skin, pulling him in different directions. Another corner, and everything abruptly stopped. The feeling faded into something throbbing for attention in the back of his mind, where it could be ignored. If he went downstairs, the feeling would be near nonexistent if he didn't think about it.

So he spun around on his heels and returned to the corridor, where immediately, the phantom voices and touches erupted in full strength again. Nico shuddered, but walked halfway down the hall before changing his mind yet again and hurrying back the way he came from.

And that was when he felt something change. The hands that originally tore at him in every direction now tugged him towards one, like they've impaled him with a giant fish hook and was reeling him in.

He turned around one more time, sucking in a nervous breath, and discovered a sudden new addition to the corridor: a door.

It seemed very normal, wooden, with a brass handle. But behind the flimsy covering, voices screamed, hands scrabbled, and Nico nearly threw up at the cacophony of the sounds of pain that washed over him when he threw open the door.

But when he stepped inside, everything silenced abruptly, leaving him shuddering with an icy feeling clawing up his spine. Maybe he should've brought the others along with him, even though they didn't appear to have experienced the same feelings as him. The door swung shut silently behind him, save for a gentle click when it locked itself.

Nico swallowed, and let his gaze sweep through the room. There was one large window across from the doorway, allowing the weak Scottish sun to light up the room, reflecting off the plain white walls. The floor was polished wood, and there were no other source of light save for the window. The room was utterly empty save for a small, round coffee table standing in the middle of the room on three thin, metal legs. Above the glass surface of the table was a single, plain white envelope, the only words being: _"To whoever answered"_.

Nico picked it up, feeling the heaviness of its contents. Strangely enough, the envelope was sealed by a small sticker of a cartoon cat, and when he gently peeled it open, a slip of paper automatically fluttered out. There were four lines etched onto the paper in dark blue ink, the handwriting elegantly curved.

_A single soul marked by a cursed blade, _

_To bring back the dead, a choice to be made. _

_A sacrifice, and exchange with the shadows; _

_An eye for an eye, a soul for a soul._

It sounded oddly familiar, but Nico couldn't remember where he might've read it before, which was frustrating because he didn't read a whole lot in the first place. Then remembering the still-heavy envelope in his hand, he tucked the paper into his pocket and tipped the envelope over onto the coffee table. Two objects clattered out, the sound deafening in the silent room. There was a small knife, blade tucked into a black leather sheath, and a tarnished silver key with a silver chain hooped around its elaborately designed head. Nico's hand went to the key first: the more exposed and safer object of the two. It was old, medium sized, the lock seeming very simple, while its head, beautiful despite its lack of luster, was made of twisting and overlapping silver strands that created an abstract picture of a keyhole. A lock inside a key.

Nico slipped the chain over his head, letting the key fall over his chest, tucked into his shirt. The metal was cold, taking an abnormally long time to warm up to his body, and Nico was already reaching for the knife.

A masterpiece, he knew the moment he picked it up. The weapon was perfectly balanced, the hilt smooth, fitting snugly in his grip. It wasn't ornamented like the key, but for a person dealing regularly with weapons, it was far more beautiful. Without hesitation, he slipped the knife out of its sheath, angling the blade to reflect the light. Unlike the key, it seemed new, or at least very carefully preserved, fondly cared for. The knife was razor sharp, smooth and undecorated. Except for a single word discreetly carved at the base of the blade, where it connected with the hilt. It was in English, and it took several tries before Nico got it right, his lips mouthing each letter carefully until all the individual sounds stringed into-

_Traitor._

The single word seemed to ring in his head, bouncing around his skull, echoing. Then he realized that it wasn't just one voice; it was many, overlapping and conversing and murmuring. _Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. A traitor. It's a traitor. He's a traitor. You're a traitor._

_No_, he thought. _How am I a traitor?_

_You're a traitor, _the voices insisted.

_No_, he protested. _I'm not._

_You are, _they repeated. _You are. You are. You are. You-_

Nico di Angelo dropped the knife, falling to his knees, and screamed as something, the voices, the words, burned him, and he was shoved into a small, dark place far, far away. The shadows, for once, were no longer comforting, and they jeered, laughing, pointing, swirling around him and grabbing at him.

_Look!_ they said gleefully. _Look!_

_No_, he found himself screaming. _I'm not a traitor!_

_Oh?_

One voice stood out against all the others. It was soft, but mocking, cold, and cruel; familiar too, and that's what made it hurt the most.

_Oh?_ Nicole's voice inquired, chuckling softly. _But you are._

"What are you doing here?" I snapped.

"The Gryffindor dorms are pretty comfortable. Warmer," Nicole said instead, glancing around the room with an open, fascinated expression that would've looked sweet and innocent if it wasn't for her dull, uninterested black eyes. "We Americans got our own tower. Smaller, obviously, but since there're only four of us, it gets a little lonely. You dropped your book, by the way."

I bent down hastily to pick the textbook up, hugging it to my chest as if it could protect me. "You could always go to the Slytherin Common Room," I retorted, deciding to play along.

She pouted. "It's _freezing_ in there, even when it was warmer. And the people there aren't very nice. I mean, _some_ people are, but so much more aren't. They called me 'American', as if that was an insult." She sniffed disdainfully. "Idiots, the lot of them."

I nodded slowly, unsure where she was going with this.

Nicole nimble leapt up from the side of the bed she was perched on. "See, Hermione, you're not like them. You're nice, and you're smart." Her head was tilted curiously to one side, a few stray black curls falling over her falsely curious expression. "Aren't you?"

I decided not to answer, still doubtful and offensive with a Slytherin in the Gryffindor tower, but slightly more relaxed now that it was clear that Nicole wasn't about to slit my throat. But then the young girl poked me on the shoulder, and repeated, "Aren't you?"

With a heaving sigh, I said, "I guess."

Nicole was beaming, for reasons unknown. "Don't be so humble, Hermione! You are!" And then the smile waned into something that was simply a small, cold tilt of her dark red lips. "But sometimes being too smart isn't good, you know. Knowing too much can get you killed."

My heart began to pound, my hand turning cold and clammy, covered in nervous sweat. _She knows_. But _of course she knows. Why wouldn't she?_

"Though, well, in my opinion, it's really only a blabbermouth that can get you killed," she continued. "You can know anything and be perfectly fine, but speaking is usually what gets you killed. Curiosity kills the cat, Hermione." She laughed a little, an empty, lifeless sound that sounded almost sad. "Don't be the cat."

"What are you doing here?" I repeated, more viciously than last time. _The nerve of her!_ I thought furiously. _She's threatening me!_

Nicole simply laughed that same laugh again, and stepped back a few steps. Her hand reached up to touch the smooth white curtains around the four poster beds – all of them now drawn open. "No need to be so hostile. I'm merely delivering a message." And then she grabbed a handful of the cloth, dramatically tugging it halfway across its rail and disappearing from sight behind the fluttering white drapes.

When I carefully, tentatively tugged the curtains back open, I found no one hiding behind them, as if the girl had disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

**I'm early!**

**No, not really. Though I _did_ say March or April 2017, and it's only February! I'm sorry though. I really am. I'll try better next time.**

**BUT PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews. They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. So please review. Unless you already reviewed before and can't anymore. I pity you. REVIEW! **


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